A Case of Multiple Identities
by ijustkeepwriting
Summary: A short story based on BBC's Sherlock. Sherlock finds himself in the company of a young, strange, client. The woman is someone form his past and she opens old wounds between him and Sherlock's older brother Mycroft...


**A Case of Multiple Identities**

Her time was up, and now she was leaving the horrid place. The front desk gave Amelia her things and she walked out to the awaiting cab. She clutched the small box. Inside it was some pictures, clothes, her new medication, along with other miscellaneous articles. She got into the cab.

"This man will take you to where ever you want to go, just tell him," one of the nurses told Amelia in a condescending tone. She nodded. The nurse shut the door.

"Where do you want to go, Miss?" The cabbie said.

"221B Baker Street, please," Amelia mumbled.

"Baker Street? Isn't that where that detective lives?" the cabbie asked. Amelia was silent. The cabbie navigated the cab away from the curb and drove off. Amelia's mind wandered as the cab maneuvered its way through London. She stared out the window in awe. It had been a long time since she had been out of the building's grounds. The cab pulled over and stopped in front of Speedy's Cafe. "This is your stop," the cabbie told Amelia. She got out and the cab drove off into traffic. Amelia walked up to the door. The brass numbers seemed foreign to her, for she was so used to the plastic or painted on numbers and signs where she came from. She put her box down and grasped the crooked knocker. She knocked three times. Mrs. Hudson, the landlady opened the door.

"Hello?" the elderly woman said. Amelia picked up her box. "Sherlock isn't here now, but he'll be back soon."

"Is there any place where I could wait for him?" Amelia asked in a hushed tone.

"Sure! I'll take you up to his flat." Mrs. Hudson took Amelia up to the cluttered apartment. Amelia let out a small chuckle. "Sorry about the mess, but he likes it this way. I try to dust it now and then, but he just gets cross with me…" Amelia tuned her out. She gingerly put her box down on the coffee table in front of the sofa. Amelia sat down on the edge of the sofa. "I'll make you a cup of tea." Mrs. Hudson went down stairs.

Meanwhile, Sherlock was at St. Bartholomew's Hospital working a case. He was at the microscope looking at something and mumbling.

"What?" Molly asked.

"John and Mary asked me to accompany them on their 'date'."

"Well are you going?"

"I'm working on a case! Of course I'm not going!"

"Just thought I'd ask, since I'm not busy later." Molly hinted hoping Sherlock was going and he'd take her.

"Yes you are," Sherlock replied bluntly. Molly was slightly surprised, "you are working late with me tonight." Sherlock smiled. Molly glared at him when he turned his back. "Saw that." Molly rolled her eyes.

At about 6 o'clock John called Sherlock.

"Molly can you get my phone?" He was fixated on what was on the other end of the microscope.

"If it is in your pocket, no," she said from across the room. Sherlock gave an exasperated sigh and took out his phone. He answered the call

"I'm on a case John."

"So, I take it you aren't having dinner with us then."

"No I'm not. Good bye John." Sherlock hung up and went back to his work. Then Mrs. Hudson called.

"What I'm busy!"

"Sherlock, you have a client. She has been waiting patiently for over two hours now."

"Tell her that yes, her boyfriend is cheating on her, she should break off the relationship immediately and-"

"I don't think that is why she came. She brought a box with her-"

"Cardboard, plastic, or metal."

"Cardboard, but I don't see how that-"

"I'll be over as soon as I'm done." Sherlock hung up.

"What was that about?" Molly asked him.

"I have a client," Sherlock said as he turned his attention back to the microscope.

"You are going to keep them waiting?"

"She's waited two hours, she can wait longer."

"Sherlock!"

"What now Molly?"

"What if it's important?"

"Can't be, she brought a cardboard box-"

"But you don't know what's inside." Sherlock looked up. He grabbed his coat and scarf.

"Point taken. I shall see you tomorrow." Sherlock walked out leaving Molly alone. Sherlock flagged a cab.

Back at his flat Amelia waited. Mrs. Hudson was having a one sided conversation. The door opened. Sherlock came in the front door.

"What is it?" He said as he walked up the stairs. "I am terribly busy working a case…" He spotted Amelia on the sofa. "Thank you Mrs. Hudson, that will be all," Sherlock said and ushered her out of the room. He shut the door behind her. He turned his attention to Amelia. "What are you doing here?"

"I have no place else to go."

"How did you get my address?" was his next question.

"You are the most famous person in London, Sherly, it wasn't that hard to figure out your address." She stood and Sherlock went over to her and gave her a hug. It felt foreign to the both of them. Sherlock was much taller than she was. She looked up at him.

"You've gotten taller," she said softly.

"It's been eleven years since I last saw you." Sherlock gave her a weak smile.

"I've missed you Sherly, I wished that I could have had visitors so you could see me."

"What about Mother, or Father, or Mycroft? Didn't you miss them?"

"No...Just you," she replied and smiled. Sherlock had always been closer to Amelia than he was with Mycroft, and there was a 14 year gap between him and Amelia, so Mycroft never liked Amelia very well. "Your flat is a wreck," Amelia said looking around. "I know you think cleaning disturbs everything, but this _has_ to be unhealthy."

"It helps me think."

"Well, you haven't changed much." Sherlock looked at the box and analyzed it trying to guess what was inside. "If you want I can just tell you what is inside." Sherlock had a guilty expression on his face. "It's all of my things."

"It's all in that box?"

"Yes, they didn't let me keep much, remember?"

"Of course I remember," Sherlock said, when he really did not. It was one of the many pieces of information he deleted. "Hungry?" he asked and went to the refrigerator. There was nothing edible there. "Let's go out to eat," Amelia got a horrified look on her face. "Maybe not. What about takeaway?"

"I am a little peckish…"

"Great! What do you want?" Amelia stood there, spaced out. "Amelia?"

"Hmm, what?"

"Takeaway, what do you want?"

"I don't care, get what you and your former flat mate usually got."

"How did you know I had a flat mate?"

"It's obvious," Amelia replied.

"Oh, I guess you're right," Sherlock said looking around the room.

As Sherlock and Amelia were eating and catching up, the front door opened. The noise startled Amelia.

"Sherlock!" John came up the stairs and entered the sitting room. He was very frustrated. Mary was right behind him. "We had been planning this dinner for days, and you just _had_ to skip out last minute," he saw Amelia sitting in his chair. "to eat _takeaway_ with, with your girlfriend, whom you are more than likely playing!"

"He is really angry, Sherlock," Mary said.

"I can see that. I also can see that you ate dinner without me anyways by the crumbs on your collar and the fact that it is an hour past the reservation," Sherlock told John. He brushed off the crumbs.

"Who's this lovely lady?" Mary asked trying to make up for John.

"This is Amelia...Amelia?" She had pulled her legs up to her chest. "Amelia?" Sherlock got up and touched her shoulder. She snapped back to life.

"I am _so_ sorry, where are my manners?" She got up and extended her hand to Mary.

"Mary Watson," Mary said and shook her hand. "and this is my husband John."

"Pleasure," Amelia said to John. "Was he your old flat mate Sherlock?"

"Yes he was." Sherlock noticed that she was much more outgoing and people friendly than Amelia usually was. He closed his eyes and racked his brain to try and remember her name.

"Are you alright Sherlock?" John asked.

"Elizabeth!" he said remembering.

"Yes?"

"You're Elizabeth."

"I am."

"Wait you just said her name was Amelia?" Mary questioned.

"Oh no…" John said under his breath.

"Yes she is Amelia, but not right now."

"What do you mean?" Mary was still confused.

"She has Dissociative Identity Disorder," John whispered to Mary. Mary looked at John, surprised. Sherlock nodded. He turned to Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth, can you go to my room and wait. The adults need to talk."

"Okay." Elizabeth practically skipped back to Sherlock's bedroom. When they hear the door shut the discussion about the girl began. Sherlock went to the bedroom door and locked it.

"How old is she and who is _she_?" John asked. Sherlock came back and sat in his chair. Mary and John sat on the sofa.

"Amelia or Elizabeth?"

"Both."

"Amelia is 28 and Elizabeth, if I remember correctly is," he paused, "15."

"Who is she?" Mary asked, not fully grasping the concept.

"Amelia is my sister-"

"You didn't tell me you had a sister?" John accused.

"It wasn't relevant, I thought you would never meet her. She surprised me and showed up in the flat. Anyways, Elizabeth is one of Amelia's other personalities. She is very sophisticated and tries to act like a proper adult."

"One? There are more?" John asked.

"The only other one I know is Violet. She is a hot headed 21 year old, who only came out when Amelia got mad."

"How did she get to be this way?" Mary asked. Sherlock rubbed his eyes and then his temples.

"Did you 'delete' that too?"

"No!" he paused and then is a quiet tone he said, "Although I wish I could." He took a deep breath. "Amelia had an identical twin sister, Anastasia Elizabeth. Ana Beth and Millie were inseparable when they were little. I was the only person who could lure Millie away from her sister. We had similar interests." Sherlock thought of his love for dancing. "Any ways, they were ten and I was 17 when it happened."

"Get to the point!" John was irritated.

"If you would quit interrupting me, I will. That Christmas Mycroft came home from the university. There was a lot of snow that year." Sherlock looked at his board audience. "The girls and I played out in the snow while Mum and Dad were in town. Mycroft was inside, studying. A car came down the street and slid on a patch of ice. Ana Beth…" Sherlock paused remembering. He held back his emotions. "Ana Beth and Millie were playing by the road when the car over corrected. The wing nicked Millie, but it hit Ana Beth head on. I rushed over to the girls. The driver got out and the commotion pulled Mycroft from his studies. Mycroft called an ambulance, but by the time it had come Ana Beth had died. Amelia was in the hospital for several days three of which she spent in a coma. When she finally woke none of us had the heart to tell her that Ana Beth was dead. When the doctors told her she fell apart. About a month after that I began to notice Elizabeth. When Mycroft came home for the summer Violet popped up. It was partly in because Mycroft could never remember that she was Amelia and not Ana Beth; he still has issues. She never had an episode around our parents, only Mycroft and me. When she turned 15 things got really bad, so Mycroft convinced my parents to put her… in a mental facility. At 16 she came back to us, since she was no longer under our parents. With Mycroft's budding government career taking off he couldn't have his mentally ill little sister interrupting things, so with his new found power he put her back into a mental institution, and that is where she has been since." Sherlock was having difficulty not showing his emotions. Inside he was welling up with sadness and rage towards his brother. Movement came from Sherlock's room.

"Sherlock! Why did you lock me in your room!" Amelia yelled. Sherlock got up and promptly went over to the door and unlocked it. "How long was I in there for...and who was I… I didn't hurt anyone did I?"

"No longer than 15 minutes, Elizabeth, and no." The two walked back into the sitting area. "This is John and Mary Watson, my old flat mate and his wife," Sherlock introduced.

"Sorry you had to see that," Amelia told them. "I don't have a lot of control over them."

"It was no problem. Elizabeth was a sweet girl," Mary told her. The four chatted as if nothing had ever happened.

Later that night sometime after John and Mary left, Amelia and Sherlock went to bed.

"I'll sleep on the sofa."

"No I'll-"

"No, I know how you get. If I sleep in your room, you'll be out here complaining all night. I'm out here." Sherlock didn't argue with her. The two fell asleep. The deeper into sleep Amelia got the worse her dreams became. She began to scream in her sleep. Sherlock woke to her screams and ran out to the sitting room.

"Amelia, Amelia, wake up... Millie you're dreaming." Amelia woke. Sherlock's eyes glinted in the light that came out of the window. "Are you alright?" Amelia shook her head. "Does this happen often." Sherlock said as he went into the kitchen.

"Yes." Amelia sat up and joined her brother. "Although the nurses would come in and strap me to my bed and inject me with something. It was supposed to help me sleep, but it acted more like a hallucinogen. Then on top of my terrible dreams, I saw things that no person ever wants to encounter." Sherlock made her a cup of hot tea. "I didn't know you knew how to make tea." Amelia joked as she took the cup.

"It's easy…" The two sat down in the chairs by the fireplace.

"Like knowing the solar system and the fact we go around the sun?"

"You read John's blogs…"

"I did. I got bored." Amelia takes a sip of her tea and almost spies it out. "Ugh… what did you put in this. It's horrible!"

"Nothing," Sherlock lied. He took a sip from his cup and put it down on a stack of books. Before he gave Amelia her cup he had slipped in a mild sedative. Amelia took one more drink and put her cup down as well.

"Is it getting brighter in here?" Amelia closed her eyes and grimaced. Then she put two and two together. "Sherlock...what did...you...give…" She slumped over in her chair. Sherlock got up and went over to her.

"You've gotten a little slow, Millie," he said as he picked her up. Sherlock carried her into his room and laid her down on his bed. He covered her up. It was two o'clock in the morning. Sherlock went out to the sofa and slept.

Amelia was still sleeping soundly when Mycroft came. Sherlock was away at the hospital. Mrs. Hudson answered the door.

"Good morning Mycroft." She said. Mycroft had just straightened the knocker.

"You really need to get that fixed," he told her. "Is my brother here?"

"No, but he'll be back."

"Hmm…" is all Mycroft said as he went up to Sherlock's flat. He dialed his brother. It rang for quite some time.

"What is it Mycroft?" Sherlock asked irritated. "I'm working."

"I am just running by your flat to make sure everything is, in order." Mycroft opened the door to the flat and walked in.

"Mycroft, you just can't-" Mycroft hung up upon seeing the two tea cups. He thought it was highly improbable that John stayed over. He looked around leaving no square in uncovered by his eyes; looking for evidence.

"Mycroft, you just can't search a man's flat. He hung up on me!" Sherlock said to John.

"What was that all about?" John asked as Sherlock put on his coat.

"We have to go back to my flat."

"Why?" Sherlock was out the door, before he could answer John's question. John followed at his heels. Sherlock hailed a cab. "Is this another drug bust, because I thought you had cleaned up?"

"221B Baker Street and hurry!" Sherlock told the cabbie. The cab drove off. Sherlock didn't wait for the cab to stop before he got out.

"Sherlock!" John called after him. Sherlock ran up the stairs and into his flat. John pursued. When Sherlock opened the door, the two saw Amelia in Sherlock's robe and her pajamas holding a knife to Mycroft's neck. Mycroft was pinned to the wall. John pulled out his gun.

"Violet!" Sherlock shouted.

"It's not Violet." Mycroft told him. "This...this one's new." Sherlock composed himself. He looked at the girl.

"I'm Sherlock Holmes-"

"I know," the girl with the knife said.

"Ana Beth put the knife down," Mycroft said, mistaking the girl for Amelia's twin.

"I am not Ana Beth!"

"What's your name then?" Sherlock continued.

"I'm Jane," said the girl slightly.

"Well Jane put the knife down. You are going to hurt Amelia's brother," Sherlock said, slowly approaching her.

"That's the point! He locked her up and wouldn't let her see you, or her parents. She was alone, just because this bloke and his precious career," Jane sneered.

"John," Sherlock whispered, "go into the kitchen and grab the syringe on the counter." John backed into the kitchen and found the syringe while Sherlock kept talking. "Jane, Amelia isn't mad at Mycroft-"

"Yes she is. Amelia sent me to kill him, so he can never hurt her again." John gave Sherlock the syringe. Sherlock went up to Jane and stuck the needle in her neck and pushed down on the plunger.

"You can kill him some other time," Sherlock told her. She dropped the knife and fell back into Sherlock's arms, "now it's time to sleep." Sherlock laid her on the sofa. Mycroft's neck was bleeding. John put down his gun and looked at it.

"It won't need stitches," John told him. He found a clean towel and gave it to Mycroft.

"She needs to go back," Mycroft said sternly.

"This wouldn't have happened if you didn't put her there in the first place," Sherlock retorted. "You heard her. She is mad at you for locking her up." Sherlock paused. "You really need to remember that she is Amelia and not Anastasia Elizabeth. That always used to trigger Violet, and I am positive that that is what triggered Jane," Sherlock scolded. Mycroft went into the bathroom. The girl on the sofa stirred and woke. John went over to her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Strange…" John helped her sit up. "When did you get here, Dr. Watson?"

"Not long ago. Sherlock gave Jane a heavy sedative," John said being cautious. Upon hearing the name, Amelia stood up and looked around the room. "Easy, I don't know what he gave you."

"It won't kill you," Sherlock said bluntly.

"Where's Mycroft?" Amelia asked.

"Hm?" Sherlock played dumb. Mycroft came out of the bathroom. Amelia hid behind Sherlock. He gave her a strange look and put his arm around her.

"Amelia-" Mycroft started.

"Don't let him take me! Sherly, don't let him!" Amelia buried her face into Sherlock's shoulder. Her breathing was heavy and rapid.

"You probably should go," Sherlock told his brother.

"Probably… I shall talk to you later." Mycroft said on his way out. When the door shut Amelia passed out from her hyperventilating. Sherlock caught her.

"What _did_ you give her Sherlock?"

"A combination of chlordiazepoxide, meprobamate, and barbiturates. Why?" Sherlock laid Amelia on the ground.

"Because you just can't go and give injections of...tranquilizer to people, let alone family." John got down beside her and checked her pulse. "How much of that did you give her? Her pulse is to slow and she is breathing to shallow. I said how much Sherlock!" John didn't wait for a response. He called for an ambulance.

After a brief visit to the emergency room Amelia was fine, other than the fact she was stuck as Elizabeth.

"Can you and Mary, um… watch her tonight."

"What, no! Mary and I were going to go on a date."

"It wasn't a question."

"But,-" Sherlock gave him a Walkman and a cassette tape.

"Just give her this and she should be fine." A black car pulled up to the curb. Sherlock got into it. The car drove off. John and Elizabeth took a cab to his flat.

"What...what is she doing here?" Mary whispered to him when he came in.

"Sherlock left her with us."

"But what about dinner."

"Cancelled, yet again on a count of the Holmes."

"I do hope I am not bothering the two of you," Elizabeth said. "Shrely always hated it when Amelia pestered him."

"Did he now?" John and Mary were intrigued. A sibling of Sherlock's who would tell them about what home was like. "Tell us more." The three sat down in the living area of the flat.

Meanwhile, Sherlock and Mycroft had a rousing conversation about what was to be done about their baby sister.

"You just can't let someone like that on their own, and you know neither one of us is capable of taking care of her; just look at us," Mycroft said referencing Sherlock's drug habit and the fact Amelia hated him. Sherlock gave him a blank expression. "There is a home out in the-"

"We are not going to send her to another mental facility. Look what the last one did. It just gave her another personality."

"I know, I said a home, don't jump to conclusions Sherlock. This house is out in the country where she will not be disturbed and where she can have visitors. I've hired several nurses to help take care of her."

"Fair enough. When should she be ready?"

"As soon as you can let her go," Mycroft said. "Most of her things are already there." The car stopped in front of John and Mary's home. Sherlock got out and the car drove off. Sherlock walked into the house.

"Hello Sherly. We were just talking about you," Elizabeth said when he walked in.

"How did you know it was him?" Mary asked.

"By his gate and by the way he just walked in. Most people would knock if they were polite."

"I told you to have her listen to her tape." Sherlock was irritated.

"But listening to yours and Mycroft's childhood was much better, Sherly," John joked.

"I swear if you ever call me that again…"

"I think it is time Sherly and I leave," Elizabeth said. "It was nice to chat with you." The Holmes left the Watsons'.

The next day Sherlock said goodbye to his sister.

"You'll be fine."

"But what if I get worse? What if I begin to hate you too?"

"Like I said you'll be fine." The two hugged and Amelia left. It was a very short and emotionless goodbye. Just like how Sherlock liked it. John came in just as she was leaving.

"So what did she tell you?" Sherlock asked John.

"Childhood stuff. Your IQ is only 140?" Sherlock's silence was his answer. "While we were talking she suddenly began to speak French. Is that normal?"

"Generally with Elizabeth it's either that German or Russian. Amelia and Elizabeth are fluent in at least seven languages and speaks enough of ten to get by, combined."

"How smart is she?"

"With her many personalities it's hard to tell. Mycroft had each one tested. The average was a 150." John smirked.

"So you're telling me that your little sister is smarter than you and Mycroft."

"Combined she is smarter than us." John laughed at Sherlock's feeble excuse.

"She's still smarter than you."

"Shut up John."


End file.
